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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25722043">towers of trees</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/querxes/pseuds/querxes'>querxes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>small town, sad song [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Post-Divorce, Small Towns, mentions of FGM and other traumatic experiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:08:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,884</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25722043</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/querxes/pseuds/querxes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack finally says what he needs to. Davey doesn't know what to say just yet.</p>
<p>Small towns become easier when you make them your own.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>David Jacobs/Jack Kelly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>small town, sad song [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825099</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>towers of trees</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interpolations/gifts">Interpolations</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is, like. Fine. It's not too bad. Please just read it anyway.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It had been three weeks since David had moved back home from the city that never sleeps. He had gone out for only one day to collect all the belongings he had left behind since making the decision that he couldn’t stay out there at all anymore, armed with his sister and his father by his side. He looked beyond tired when they returned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He came back and immediately started looking for jobs, desperate to find anything in the moment. He did find one, a job that he would have to commute for that was located in the city just outside of town, not nearly as massive as his old place but a welcome change. Jack figured that gave him more time to talk to people, since there weren’t as many who were moving at a million miles an hour. Something deeper and meaner in Jack told him that it wasn’t just the city or rushed time management.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was strange to see David’s name on his phone active again. Granted, it was a new phone number, new profile picture, new everything. Most of the pictures on his social media were professional photos of him in his suits and ties at the law firm with his colleagues, then the others were of him volunteering at the border or in Puerto Rico after Hurricane Maria, or him just being a genuinely good person. But every single picture posted was linked to his job, and it was almost strange that he seemed happier to be standing in the wreckage of a house after a tsunami in Guam than he seemed to be in his office in the city. It would’ve been strange to see if Jack didn’t know any better, because the city meant that David was closer to—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yeah. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>David didn’t like talking about Brock. It was a terribly precarious topic, one that was not breached by the ones who knew better. But it was clear the impact the man had left on David. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was always expecting himself to be wrong at </span>
  <em>
    <span>something, </span>
  </em>
  <span>when he had always been the smartest person Jack knew. He became frustrated more often, it was something Jack could notice in the way his jaw would jut out and clench for minutes at a time, but he never said a word following it, never a word in his defense. He would keep himself silent more often than not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were even new habits Jack didn’t recognize—moments where David would pinch himself on the fleshy part of his wrist so hard that it would carve a crescent from his fingernail into the soft skin, or times where he would fiddle with his ring finger, even there was nothing there anymore. He would hold himself back from going on long tangents or rants like he used to when they were kids. And he</span>
  <em>
    <span> hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> being called Davey anymore. His face would twist in a grimace every single time someone would stretch out the last bit of his name, but Jack noticed he was slowly getting used to it again as the months started to pass by.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jack had never met Brock, but if he ever did, he would have to refrain himself from becoming a convict.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>David started visiting a therapist not long after he had found his new job working for the immigration law firm just outside town. Neither ride was a terrible commute and the therapist’s office was just down the road from his firm, so once a week he would stop for his appointment on his way home. Jack didn’t know many details, and he didn’t ask for any in the first place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After David’s appointments, he would busy himself with plans with his siblings, plans with his parents, plans with his friends. When he wasn’t doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>that, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was throwing himself into his work, taking on new cases at rapidfire speed, carrying the weight of the world on his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jack still remembered when he grabbed his phone and sent out that first message only weeks after David's return, crossing his fingers and biting his tongue.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Message to: David Ephraim Jacobs ;)</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Sent at 5:37 pm</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Do u wanna go out to the field w me tonight?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Read at 5:46 pm</b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I have a lot of work to do tonight, sorry.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Is it on ur computer?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No, it’s all on paper. Why?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>U could take it with us. I can paint/draw, i probably should anyway. Got a commission i need to work on soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Please come with? Im lonely without you :(</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fine, you win. Meet me at my house at six, we’re taking your trash truck.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Don’t say that about lizzie, shes an angel. See u then</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was just that one evening. And suddenly, it was all the time that they were running off together to escape the cold grip of reality. They would risk going to the fields before a thunderstorm when the sky was cloudy, the leaves on the trees swaying around them, and they would feel the air sticking to their skin. It had turned into a competition who could run back to the truck the fastest when it started downpouring on them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, there were the days where the sun shined so bright down on their backs that it warmed the hair on the crown of their heads. Davey would take his paperwork and Jack would grab his paints, supplies strewn out on the messenger bag next to him while they sunk down in the grass. More often than not, Davey would jump up and shriek at the sight of the beetles in the grass or the feeling of ants crawling on his legs, and Jack would just look up at him, squinting in the sunlight, and they would laugh like fools and mock each other lightly for the rest of the day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It became significantly colder during the winter months, but it was never unbearable to them. They had both grown up living through the surprise nor’easters and the fading hope that spring would ever return. A little snow wouldn’t stop them from finding their way out to their field. The snow would, however, get the tires of Jack’s truck stuck on the unplowed roads and an exasperated Davey would be forced to call AAA roadside service while Jack dug freezing hands in the snow banks in an attempt to free the wheels.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thing was, Davey looked more full of life standing there on the phone with customer service than he did the first time Jack had seen him again. That spoke volumes to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then spring </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>come, but as usual it was way too short. But it was perfect while it lasted, because there was one Friday evening that had bled into night. Like clockwork, they got in Jack’s truck again, driving down the winding back roads and taking unnecessary turns down deserted paths. The headlights shined through the trees, bright beams displaying the ages-old greying bark. The radio was quiet, playing some bland country station Jack had mindlessly turned it to the day before, and they pulled out to the same field they always did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They climbed onto the bed of the truck again, letting their legs dangle over the edge, holding their bottles of iced tea in their laps. The conversation started out light, but something shifted and led it down a darker path.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I met these clients for the first time today, it was a mother and her children, they came from the Philippines. She was trying to get her children away from her abusive husband and move them to America.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jack nodded. He knew where this was going. Davey continued. “I’ve seen a lot of different people since I started the job. A lot of them were traumatized from experiences in their old countries, that’s why they wanted to get out. Sexual assault victims, kids who had to watch their home turn into a warzone, victims of genital mutilation, but...I gave a lot of advice to that woman for someone who was staring directly into a mirror.” He huffed out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “I was such a hypocrite. I looked all of those domestic abuse victims I’ve ever worked with in the eye and tried to convince them that what they had gone through wasn’t their fault.” He ran a hand over his face. “I can’t even listen to my own advice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jack shook his head vehemently. “No. No, Davey, it’s not your fault. Never, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> was it your fault. It could’ve happened to anyone, you understand? Your, uh—</span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> would’ve done it to someone else if it wasn’t you. And you...you just see the best in everyone. Genuinely, you’ve always cared so much about people. And he was a terrible person who exploited you for that.” Jack reached over and clasped Davey’s hand. “You were so brave for getting yourself out and you’re brave for getting help for it. That takes </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much</span>
  </em>
  <span> courage.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sometimes I don’t feel very brave.” Davey admitted, leaning on the palms of his hands. “I just feel sad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their conversation spiraled into silence.</span>
</p>
<p><span>Jack swallowed dryly. “That’s human, to feel sad,” he said. “Just means you’re not, like, uh…” Jack trailed off, pretending to think. “Do giraffes feel emotions? I know some animals</span> <span>do, yeah, but </span><em><span>giraffes? </span></em><span>Or sharks, even?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“They do,” Davey laughed, wiping his eyes. “Giraffe males are actually very solitary, but I think a lot of animals feel some level of emotion, especially the females. Elephants, though, they mourn death much like humans do. They will have something close to a funeral service for their dead.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, of all people I know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>would be the one to know that completely random fact. Animal Planet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, no. Watching the Lion King with Les and getting curious about what all the elephant bones were doing in a graveyard. Then, it was National Geographic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s fair.” Jack paused, glancing over at the easier smile on Davey’s face, and he told himself </span>
  <em>
    <span>if you don’t tell him right now you will combust—</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then, “Look, I know I shouldn’t be saying this. It’s been, what? One year since you’ve been back? But...I have to say it. Davey, I...I love you.” Jack’s voice cracked. “And I have since we were kids.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Davey sat completely frozen next to him. He blinked in shock, then he laughed. A sad, broken laugh. He looked up to the stars, eyes wide and misty, and he looked back at Jack. “If I had known that back then,” he paused. “I don’t think I would’ve left in the first place.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The peepers chirped in the trees as tall as towers, stretching up to touch the glittering sky with open arms. Jack felt so small, yet so big at the same time. And without speaking, they wrapped each other in a tentative embrace that tightened to comfort each other’s shaking shoulders and staggering breaths.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>David smiled, sadness and a million other emotions mixed in that smile. “I can’t say it out loud yet, but...me too, Jack.” And their hands came down to clasp each other’s, holding on tightly. They sat there on Jack’s truck bed for hours with the stars as their witness.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!<br/>Let me know what you think!<br/>Come yell at me on tumblr @thetruthabouttheboy or my main @querxes</p></blockquote></div></div>
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